


Summer Wine

by IdiotBabe



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Choking, Dirty Talk, Discipline, Dom/sub, F/M, Low Honor Arthur Morgan, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn with minimal Plot, Punishment, Smut, big dick Morgan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27808030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdiotBabe/pseuds/IdiotBabe
Summary: You're a member of the gang that specializes in writing songs. One night, you play a song that Arthur doesn't care for and he makes it well known....
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 94





	Summer Wine

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as I was playing through RDR2 for the second time and the gang had just gotten Jack back and was celebrating around the fire outside Shady Bell. I was also learning Summer Wine on the guitar, and I decided that with a few changed lyrics, it could apply to a great Arthur story. I would recommend listing to it before/as you’re reading.

Sitting around the campfire was your favorite thing to do with the gang. You might not have been the best cook and you certainly weren’t the best shot, but you knew how to keep the spirits up and keep the gang entertained. 

You had picked up a guitar from a traveler in Valentine back when the gang was staying at Horseshoe Overlook. You could play a few simple chords, nothing fancy, but no one was the wiser. You would strum the songs that they all knew and liked, as well as occasionally writing your own and plucking through them around the fire.

So, one humid summer night, gathered around the flicker of the fire outside Shady Bell, you were caught off guard when Hosea called out to you between songs,

“Hey, Y/N, play that song that you wrote about robbin’ that feller blind.”

You knew what he was talking about. The song was about Arthur. It was the story of how you met just a few months ago. You had written the song and played it to yourself, but you didn’t know that anyone at camp had actually heard it.

“Oh Hosea, I haven’t really finished it yet, I don’t want to bore ya’ll with something that isn’t done,” you lied. It was done. It was beautiful. But no one knew the real story of how you and Arthur met. Maybe it was his pride, but he never wanted to tell the gang that he had been robbed by a pretty little thing like you. He made you promise to keep it a secret, in exchange for introducing you to the gang that would become your family.

“Oh, c’mon! I heard you working on it last week and it’s so pretty!” Hosea cooed. Other members of the gang sitting around chimed in, cheering you on. You blushed. You covertly looked around, making sure Arthur hadn’t shown up quietly. You hadn’t seen him all day and he wasn’t around the campfire.

“Alright, just this once,” you agreed, placing your fingers on the frets. You hoped Arthur was asleep.

“Strawberries, cherries and an angel’s kiss in Spring  
My summer wine is really made from all these things…” 

You began to croon, still keeping your eyes peeled for Arthur. You knew if he heard it, he would know exactly what was happening.

“He walked in town on silver spurs that jingled to  
A song that he had only sang to just a few  
I saw his silver spurs and said, ‘let’s pass some time,  
And I will give to you summer wine’  
Oh, ooh, summer wine”

Hosea hummed along and even Dutch came to sit on a log and listen in. Arthur was still thankfully nowhere in sight. 

“Strawberries cherries and an angel's kiss in spring  
My summer wine is really made from all these things  
Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time  
And I will give to you  
Summer wine  
Ohhh-oh summer wine”

Singing the chorus for the second time, you began to unwind. You closed your eyes and harmonized with Hosea’s humming. He really had heard you playing it before. 

“His eyes grew heavy and his lips they could not speak  
He tried to get up,  
But he couldn’t find his feet  
I reassured him with an unfamiliar line  
And then I gave to him,  
More summer wine  
Ohhh-oh summer wine”

You strummed the guitar freely and effortlessly, your eyes still closed in your blissful melody.

“Strawberries cherries and an angel's kiss in spring  
My summer wine is really made from all these things  
Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time  
And I will give to you summer wine  
Ohhh-oh summer wine”

The gang was clapping along now, a few people joining in on the simple chorus that repeated itself. You could hear Dutch tapping his heel into the dirt along with the beat. You could not, however, hear a pair of recently returned silver spurs approaching the fire.

“When he woke up the sun was shinin’ in his eyes  
His silver spurs were gone,  
His head filled twice its size  
I took his silver spurs,  
A dollar and a dime  
And left him cravin’ for  
More summer wine  
Ohh-oh summer wine”

Everyone joined in as you serenaded them with the chorus one final time

“Strawberries cherries and an angel's kiss in spring  
My summer wine is really made from all these things  
Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time  
And I will give to you summer wine  
Ohhh-oh summer wine”

You took one final strum down on the last chord, defiantly ending your tune. The gang clapped and whistled as you blushed and bowed your head. Finally opening your eyes and looking around, you noticed Arthur, sitting on the log beside Dutch. He was not cheering with everyone else.

“My goodness, Y/N, I was always proud of this gang for outsmarting folk when it came to getting money, but singing about it so beautifully? Now that is impressive!” Dutch praised you as he stood to give you a fatherly pat on the shoulder. Your eyes locked with Arthur’s, seeing the storm rage within his blue irises. You looked away anxiously, setting the guitar in the dust at your feet.

“I’ve got to be getting to bed now, friends. I suggest you all think about doing the same sooner or later.” Dutch announced, patting your shoulder again before he began to walk towards the old wooden house.

“Thanks Y/N, that’s a great little ballad you’ve got there. Sure feel bad for the feller you wrote it about!” Hosea chuckled before standing and turning to follow Dutch. A small smile is all you can manage in response, now ashamed of the sinful tune you had shared. 

Arthur didn’t budge, and you hoped that if you stayed still enough, maybe he would forget your presence. 

Your hope was crushed when he cleared his throat and spoke up, “Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?” 

That smooth, honeyed voice got to you. Even in his anger, his voice was too sweet to avoid tying a knot in your lower abdomen. 

“Sure, Arthur. What about?” you asked, innocently, thinking maybe if you played it cool, he would too.

“Why don’t we go upstairs for this one,” he instructed, nodding his head towards the house before lowering it, keeping his eyes just blocked from your gaze by the brim of his hat.

You swallowed hard, “Okay.”

Arthur stood to his full height, turning his back towards you as he strolled towards the house.

“C’mon,” he gestured with his hand to follow him. You did, but not before you felt a fire begin to spark in your core.  
Silently, you trailed him into the house and up the creaking wooden staircase. You hadn’t spent much time inside, and you surely had not been inside Arthur’s “room.” Since you were newer, you belonged outside with the dogs. You were grateful, however, that the liquor seemed to be flowing well enough that night that no one noticed you following him into his room.

He opened the door and let you walk in before him. You held your hands together nervously as he closed the door behind the two of you. Hearing the click of the doorknob, your stomach turned over.

Arthur’s room was modest. A twin bed pushed up against the wall where he slept felt like an intimate sight, and the soft glow of a lantern on his desk illuminated his face so gently, further adding to the intimate feeling you were becoming aware of.

“You gonna tell me what you were singin’ about back there?” Arthur questioned. He took a step towards you, bowing his head so that his eyes were hidden again by the brim of his hat. 

“I- It’s not my song, I didn’t write it, I-” You began to stammer, but Arthur cut you off.

“Awh, I don’t think so. Sounded awful familiar to me.”

You did not realize that with each step he took towards you, you took one back. Now, with your back against the wall quite literally, you were really cornered.

“It’s just a song, Arthur. They don’t know it’s about you,” you pleaded.

Arthur raised his arm, firmly placing a hand on the wall behind you, trapping you between it and his rugged body. You couldn’t help but run your eyes down his sinewy frame, the way his burly chest sloped so gently to his waist that appeared to almost struggle to hold up his gun belt.

“Well I think you just told them. And we promised we weren’t gonna tell nobody about that, didn’t we?” His voice was low, not just in tone, but in volume.

You closed your eyes and bit your lip, turning your head away from him. He was so close that you could smell the whiskey on his breath and the gunpowder on his body.

“Yes, sir,” you responded, instinctively. Arthur let out a low chuckle at your answer.

“You’re still pretty proud of yourself, aren’t ya? Goin’ around writin’ songs about your little achievement and singin’ it to the whole camp,” Arthur claimed. It was not a question.

“No, sir, I’m not proud, I just… was thinkin’ about it, is all,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. Arthur moved in closer, so near that you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

“Maybe I need to give you something else to think about then, huh?” he suggested. You stirred beneath him. You’ve wanted to have him again ever since that night. You nodded your head in response, the back of your head rubbing against the wall you were pushed into.

Arthur slid his other hand up to your waist and kissed you gently beneath your ear, the scruff of his facial hair tickling your soft skin. You exhaled a silent moan that cascaded hot breath down his shoulder.

“That’s a girl,” he chuckled between kisses. His hand worked its way up your waist to your breast, which he kneaded, pushing you further into the wall. You couldn’t help but let out a stifled moan.

“Shhh…” he silenced you, placing a single finger on your lips, “...you wouldn’t want everyone out there to know what a bad girl you’ve been.” 

You can’t help but think about how the same finger on your lips has pulled the trigger of his gun so many times, taking so many lives. You felt ashamed that it excited you.

“Arthur, please,” you moaned. You brought a hand to his face, your palm caressing his cheek.

“Please what, girl?” he inquired. He reached down and firmly grasped your ass, causing you to jump.

“Please take me,” you whispered. 

He pushed his body into you and you felt his excitement.

“Is that what you want? I don’t think you get to tell me what to do. You broke our promise,” Arthur breathed. His hand hovered away from your ass towards your neck. You thought he was ready to grab your throat, but he gently began to undo the buttons of your blouse.

“Please Arthur!” you begged. 

He let out another low chuckle.

In one swift motion, he yanked at the button of your blouse and it popped off, along with the others beneath it, leaving your chest exposed. You let out a gasp that fell into a moan.

“That’s more like it.” 

Arthur spun you around, swapping your positions and shoved you towards the bed. Standing at its edge, you struggled to catch your breath. For a moment, you stood a few paces apart and you couldn’t help but notice your excitement growing.

Arthur tipped his hat down, covering his face as he unbuckled his gun belt. It fell to the floorboards with a clatter.

“What happened to being quiet, Mister Morgan?” you teased. 

His hat brim lifts just enough that you see a slight grin pull across his lips. Arthur lurched forward and grabbed your hips, thrusting you onto his bed. He climbed on top of you and slid his hand up your chest, landing at your throat.

“I think you should be a lot more concerned with keeping yourself quiet. Isn’t that what got you here in the first place, not knowing when to keep quiet?” His voice was raspy, almost like jazz.

You closed your eyes tightly and nodded. He removed his hat, placing it on the mattress next to you.

“What do you think is a suitable punishment for lyin’?” he said as he moved his face closer to you, his ashy blonde hair spilling on your chest. He placed gentle kisses along your collarbone and gripped at the flesh of your thighs.

“Oh, Arthur! I’ll do anything, I’ll wash your clothes, I’ll clean your guns, I-” you were cut off as Athur bit down on your soft flesh, causing you to moan.

“That’s not quite what I had in mind, but now that you mention it, I might have you do those things for me as well.”

“What do you want me to do for you, Arthur?” you whispered. It became harder to conceal your excitement, you felt it growing between your legs.

Arthur slid off of you and stood at the edge of the bed.

“Strip,” he instructed. You weren’t sure at first if you were really hearing those words come from him, but his serious tone left no question.

Arthur unbuttoned his vest and you clammered to get your blouse over your head. You began undoing the buttons of your skirt as Arthur peeled his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. You slid your prairie skirt off and threw it on top of his shirt.

You paused to take in the sight of him, softly glowing in the light of his lantern. He was a specimen indeed.

“What did I just tell you to do?” he quizzed. Your mouth opened, but he didn’t let you speak, “I told you to strip, didn’t I?”

“I don’t think I can unlace my corset by myself… Karen usually helps me,” you informed him. He sighed, almost as if he was disappointed.

“Stand up then, turn around.”

You did as he instructed, facing away from him. You pulled your hair over your shoulder, running your fingers anxiously through its strands as he began to unlace you. He pulled firmly at the strings, clearly growing impatient. You attempted to look over your shoulder to watch him. He yanked the unlaced corset off your body and swiftly grabbed the nape of your neck, pushing it down onto the mattress. 

“Oh Arthur…”

His fingers grazed over your chemise, circling your clit.

“You like fuckin’ outlaws, don’t you?” He inquired, still holding the back of your neck with his opposite hand. You moaned in response. Not satisfied with your answer, he flipped you over, laying you on your back.

“I asked you a question,” he reminded you. He kicked your legs apart, standing between your knees.

“Yes sir,” you nodded.

“Well lucky you then,” he chuckled. He undid his pants, dropping them to his ankles before kicking them across the floor towards the other pile of clothes. His member sprang free and you sat up so that you were at eye level with it.

He ran his fingers tamely through your hair before forcefully grabbing a fistfull and arching your neck back.

“You gonna take me, Y/N?” 

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl,” he praised you before bringing your lips to his tip.

Fitting him in your mouth was not easy. You had forgotten how sizable he was. You moaned as he slid your lips further down his shaft. He groaned in response. He kept his fingers woven into your hair, setting a pace for you.

Just as your jaw began to grow sore, he abruptly gripped your throat and threw you onto your back again. He put his knees on the bed between your legs and held himself, ready for you.

You slid your chemise off, completing his earlier demand. He drank in the sight of you, enamored by your beauty. He slapped his member twice on the inside of your thigh.

“You sure you want this?”

“Yes, Arthur, please,” you rapidly nodded.  
“Good girl,” he grinned, bringing himself to your entrance.

He slid himself inside of you and you began to moan before he stopped you.

“Shhhh… Shhh.. Shh…” he shook his head, “not another peep out of you.”

You nodded again. Arthur gripped your shoulder and began to thrust into you. You bit your lip, trying your best to obey.

You hadn’t felt this kind of ecstasy in some time. It was as though all the planets aligned and the stars shined brighter just for you.

“Did you like makin’ the gang feel sorry for me, Y/N?” Arthur asked between grunts.

“N- no sir,” you managed to squeak out. Arthur brought his hand down firmly on the inside of your thigh, causing you to yelp.

“Don’t you lie to me, girl,” he growled. He lifted one of your legs up and slung it over his shoulder, allowing him to thrust deeper inside of you.

“Oh fuck, yes sir, I did!” you squealed.

“I knew it. You like braggin’ about bein’ a big, bad outlaw, don’t you?”

You nodded in response, biting your lip harder in an attempt to keep quiet.

“Well, I hope it was worth it. They’re all gonna hear ya out there and then we’ll see who they feel sorry for,”Arthur purred. He brought a hand up to your throat and wrapped it carefully around your neck, squeezing it just firmly enough that your brain began to throb. You couldn’t help it, you let out a nice, wanton moan.

Arthur pulled out as soon as your voice grew quiet, shaking his head at you in disapproval. He grabbed your hips with force and flipped you onto your hands and knees, swiftly bringing his hand back between your legs and stroking you.

“Not so tough are ya now, huh?” he whispered, snaking his fingers inside you.

“Please Arthur!” You gasped. He snatched a handful of your hair, pulling your head back.

“Please what, Y/N?” he investigated, repositioning himself behind you, ready to enter you again.

“Please, just let me cum,” you begged.

“We’ll see about that,” he informed you as he dove back inside you. It was difficult to keep quiet as he thrust into all the right places.

“I can feel that, you know. You gonna finish for me?” he catechized. You moaned in response, your body tightening around him. He chuckled, pulling your hair towards his chest.

It felt as though every beautiful moment you had ever lived flashed before your eyes in that minute. All the bright lights of Saint Denis, the kiss of the morning sunlight on Mount Hagen, the glow of the campfire and the singing of voices… All of it, there in your mind, flowing through your body like an electric current. 

Arthur groaned behind you, reaching his climax just as yours slowed. His thrusts came to a slower pace and he loosened his grip on your hair, letting your head fall between your shoulders. Once he pulled out of you, you collapsed onto your chest, breathing heavily. He fell next to you, sighing a beautiful song of satisfaction.

Once you caught your breath, you turned your head to look at him, grinning wildly. He flashed a grin back at you and stroked the apple of your cheek.

“Thank you Arthur,” you said bashfully. He kissed your forehead tenderly and nestled himself in comfortably next to you.

The next morning, you were sore in places you couldn’t mention to others. You hoped things would stay quiet around camp and you wouldn’t have to mount a horse anytime soon.

You were sitting next to the campfire with a cup of bitter coffee, sipping it thoughtfully, reminiscing on last night. Part of you wasn’t sure it wasn’t just a dream.

“You alright, Y/N?” you heard that silvery voice call out from behind you. You turned to see Arthur approaching with his own cup of coffee.

“I’m wonderful,” you smiled. He sat across from you, his soft lips sipping on his warm drink.  
“So, you gonna clean my guns and clothes today?” he inquired, those sky-blue eyes piercing into yours.

“Oh, maybe! If you’re lucky,” you chuckled, blushing.

“That’s alright. I think I’d rather have you do something else for me.”

Your stomach dropped. If he was proposing another night with him, you’d jump at the chance.

“Yes, Mr. Morgan?” you dutifully responded.

“Will you write another song about me?”


End file.
